Want It Lovett Gotta Have It
by EverTheDreamer
Summary: Mrs. Lovett intends to seduce Sweeney Todd but the blasted man doesn't see what's right in front of him. Somebody does, though, and he's going after it. Eventual Sweenett. Based on LuPone's In Concert Lovett mixed with a bit of her Revival. WARNING: RAPE.
1. Chapter 1

"Stupid man!" Mrs. Lovett huffed as she stomped back into her pie shop, resenting the cheerful tinkling the bell made.

"I could bloody well go up in me undergarments to give 'im 'is dinner and 'e still wouldn't notice a bloody thing! 'E just stares out that bloody window all bloody day. I may as bloody well be invisible."

For several days, she had been dropping more hints than usual, leaning over unnecessarily, and generally throwing herself at him and he hadn't even so much as batted an eye.

Fuming, she attempted to clean up the shop but only succeeded in creating a bigger mess. "Bugger" she muttered, surveying her work.

"I might as well start with the tables outside, then, before it gets too dark," she sighed, marching dutifully to work, still clad in the outfit she had donned to seduce Mr. Todd.

As she bent over the tables, scrubbing them clean, she could feel someone watching her. Hungrily, if she wasn't mistaken.

_So he _has_ noticed,_ she thought, thoroughly pleased with herself. She made sure her backside swayed as she scrubbed.

Her chest heaving from cleaning and trying to appear seductive all at once, she turned to make a sassy-but still flirtatious- comment to Mr. Todd, sure her heaving chest wouldn't hurt her case.

"Oh!" Mrs. Lovett started, surprised. "Beadle Bamford! Can I do anything for you?" She began wishing she _had_ changed as she noticed the beadle's eyes were clouded over with lust and had yet to stray from her breasts, which still seemed to be fighting for freedom from her corset.

"I can think of several things," Beadle Bamford replied, trying to give her a seductive smile.

Mrs. Lovett attempted a smile as she backed towards the door and succeeded in backing into a table. "Well, it's getting' a bit late, don't ya think, sir? So, I think I';; just finish me cleaning inside before I retire to bed."

Beadle Bamford took a few steps forward, his eyes still trained on her chest- which, due to her increasing fright, was still heaving. "Do you need a hand, Mrs. Lovett? I'd be glad to do anything I can to- For. For you."

"No. No, that's alrigh'. I can manage jus' fine meself, thanks," Mrs. Lovett managed to scramble to the door, but, as she refused to turn her back to this man, she fumbled with the handle. "Did you want to see Mr. Todd about a shave, sir?"

"Well, that is why I dropped by. But, I've found something far more… Stimulating to spend my time on. Besides, I'm sure Mister Sweeney Todd has closed for the evening, anyway."

"No! Not for you, sir! I'm sure he'd be glad to take you now. I mean, you're Beadle Bamford!" She was sure her voice had climbed at least an octave. _Why can't I get this bloody door open?!_

Beadle Bamford took several steps forward, effectively closing the gap between them. "Really?" he asked, a predatory smirk on his face as he pinned her against the door with his much larger form. "Would you be glad to 'take me now,' since I'm Beadle Bamford?"

His breath was hot on her face as he pressed his erection against her. Her heart racing, she tried another tactic. Anything to steer the conversation from sexual euphemisms. "Oh? Did you-um- want a pie, sir? We're closed for the night, but if you give me a bit, I can whip one up righ' quick for ya."

"A pie, Mrs. Lovett? Ah, yes," he nodded. "A 'pie.' That's exactly what I'm after." His hand gripped hers on the doorknob and he easily opened the door causing Mrs. Lovett to stumble backwards and fall into a booth. Beadle Bamford closed the door behind himself. "Now… About that 'pie.'"

"I think you may 'ave misunderstood, Beadle Bamford. I meant an actual pie. And if I'm to whip one up for you, I may as well see if Mr. Todd is 'ungry as well," Mrs. Lovett darted for the door, but Beadle Bamford easily stepped in front of it again.

"No," the beadle shook his head. "I believe it is _you_ who have misunderstood." He clucked his tongue, "soliciting the beadle? That can land you in bedlam, at the very least. We wouldn't want that, now would we? And if you're in bedlam, that puts Mister Sweeney Todd out on the streets, wouldn't it?" He advanced on her until she had fallen back into the booth.

"Are you threatening me, Beadle Bamford?" Mrs. Lovett asked, sounding far more courageous than she felt.

"You catch on quick. And if you behave, Mrs. Mooney may find herself without a permit to run her meatpie shop. And all those complaints about the neighbor's missing cats? Well, I, as the beadle, have to do something about that." Her false courage falling away, Mrs. Lovett stared back at the beadle's black eyes as tears formed in her own. "Now… I am, Beadle Bamford. So, you'd be glad to 'take me,' wouldn't you?" He stepped between her knees and stared down at her, smiling.

Mrs. Lovett forced a nod, "Of course, sir."

The beadle roughly pushed Mrs. Lovett into a lying position before sliding a hand up her thigh. "I don't for the life of me know why I waited so long." He extracted himself from his trousers before pushing Mrs. Lovett's skirt up past her stomach. "Let's get those breasts of yours out of their confinement, now."

Mrs. Lovett choked back a sob as she helped to remove her dress. "Please!" she begged. "Please? I'll do anything!"

"Good to know," the beadle smiled, before he entered her roughly. "Tell me how powerful I am."

"You're so powerful, Beadle Bamford," Mrs. Lovett parroted back between silent sobs. "You control everyone and everything."

"Especially you, right?" the beadle panted before nipping at one of her breasts.

She could barely breathe between her sobs as she tried desperately to not cry out, "Yes, especially me, sir."

His ragged nails scratched her shoulders as he continued to barrel into her. With one last grunt, he came hard inside of her.

"That's good," he said, pulling out of her. "Next time, see if you can be more enthused. Though, I _am_ a bit of a speciman, so I suppose you just weren't ready. Next time, though."

"Next time?" Mrs. Lovett asked, trying to cover herself as best she could as the beadle pulled his trousers back on.

"Yes, Mrs. Lovett. Next time. I imagine there'll be many 'next times,' love," the beadle answered with a wink. "Same time tomorrow, then? Good."

And he left the shop without waiting for an answer.

Mrs. Lovett cried all the louder now that she was no longer afraid to anger her assailant. She didn't even make it out of the booth before crying herself to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

"Breakfast, Mr. Todd," Mrs. Lovett announced as she entered the barbers shop. She put his tray on the chest by the door before nodding a goodbye, too worn out by the beadle's daily visits to futilely flirt with Sweeney.

"Mrs. Lovett?" Mr. Todd asked suddenly from his usual spot in front of the bay window.

Mrs. Lovett paused, her hand on the doorknob but didn't turn around. _He's starting a conversation? Has he finally noticed me as more than his landlady? Could he possibly care for me? "_Yes, Mr. T?"

"Come here a tick, my pet."

It was more of a demand than a request, even Mrs. Lovett couldn't deny that. _But,_ Mrs. Lovett reasoned as she made her way over to him _it's a step in the right direction. Far better than his usual 'Leave me.'_

"He's been coming for several days, just after close, but he hasn't come up yet. Has he been coming to your shop? Has he said anything?

"No," Mrs. Lovett breathed, wide eyed. She started backing up as Sweeney pointed out the window at Beadle Bamford. "No!"

"It was just a question, you daft woman. No need to get all-" Sweeney turned around to find Mrs. Lovett backed against the far wall. "Mrs. Lovett?"

"No!" she clutched herself tightly as she slid down the wall and into a heap. "No!"

Sweeney approached her somewhat cautiously. "Mrs. Lovett, something wrong, pet?"

"No!" Mrs. Lovett screeched, shaking her head. "No, no, no, no, no! 'E said-! But...'E said, 'same time.'This isn't... No!"

"Mrs. Lov-"

"'E's been saying, 'same time,'for days now!"Mrs. Lovett repeated, quickly reaching a new level of hysteria.

"What are you about, woman? Who's been saying, 'same time?' Have you been in league with him? Are you trying to double-cross me, Mrs. Lov-"Sweeney's budding anger hit a speed bump as he noticed Mrs. Lovett's poorly hidden scratches and bruises. He knelt beside the crying woman. "Mrs. Lovett? What happened to your neck and-ahem- chest?"

"No," Mrs. Lovett shook her head. "'E said not to tell. Said I'd wind up in Bedlam if I said anything, 'e did."

"Who said?" Sweeney whispered gently, sounding far more like Benjamin than he would care to admit.

"Ah, Mrs. Lovett. Delivering Mr. Todd, here, his breakfast?" Beadle Bamford asked as he entered the shop.

"Yes, sir. I'll just be on my way, though. Lots o'pies ter bake," Mrs. Lovett stumbled as she stood and all but ran from the shop.

"I'll be by to get me daily pie in a bit. And again later, same time," Bamford told Mrs. Lovett's retreating form.

"Oh? Daily pie, Beadle Bamford?" Sweeney asked, barely repressing the malicious glint in his smile. "Have you become a regular customer for Mrs. Lovett?"

"You could say that, yes. Mrs. Lovett's been kind enough to take me after closing since me schedule's too hectic to visit during store hours," the beadle answered, smiling.

"Ah, but, sir!" Sweeney protested, his voice drenched in faux admiration. "You haven't been up for a shave!"

"Well, Mrs. Lovett keeps me quite busy when I stop by. I'll be by soon, though," the beadle assured.

"How about now, sir? Isn't that why you came upstairs?" Sweeney supplied, itching to get the other man in the chair.

The beadle faltered. "Actually I came up to...Make an appointment. For Saturday. I don't have time for a shave just now."

"Saturday? Yes, sir. I will see you Saturday for the closest shave you'll ever know," Sweeney smiled.

Beadle Bamford nodded and tipped his hat before descending the stairs.

"If I says nothin','e won't put me in Bedlam," Mrs. Lovett twittered as she prepared pie crusts at the kitchen island of her shop. "Shh...She mustn't say anyfin'."

In the far corners of her mind, Mrs. Lovett realized her already tentative grip on sanity was slipping.

__

I can't fall apart! Mr. T needs me. I cannot fall apart... Like Lucy did after...

"No!"

_I have to get through this. Mr. T is gonna kill the bloody beadle for his crimes against his precious Lucy. Soon enough..._

"Mrs. Lovett?"

Wide-eyed, Mrs. Lovett looked up, "B- Beadle Bamford? I- I thought you weren't coming by until later."

"Well, I was going to wait, but I just had such a craving for one of your... 'meat-pies,'" the beadle smiled.

"But, sir, I 'ave to open soon! I can't be-"

"To the parlor, then?" Beadle Bamford interrupted her pointedly, closing the door to the shop behind him.

"Yes, Beadle," Mrs. Lovett choked, following him.

After the first few times, she didn't cry during anymore. Only after. Always after.

Instead, Mrs. Lovett focused on the cheery wallpaper behind the beadle's head as he stripped himself of his trousers. Then she would think of her Mr. Todd- only of her precious Mr. Todd- as the beadle greedily stripped her of her many layers of skirts.

__

I can hear him pacing upstairs,

Mrs. Lovett thought as Beadle Bamford grunted and groaned as he found his rhythm. _I can hear him; can he hear me? Hear what this creature is doing to me?_

Not for the first time, Mrs. Lovett's mind drifted, taking her far away from what this monster was doing to her; Mrs. Lovett dreamed of her beautiful Mr. Todd rescuing her...

__

"Mrs. Lovett? Nellie? I have to tell you something, I can't deny it any more!" Mr. Todd would say, bursting into the shop. "Beadle Bamford?"

Mr. Todd would pull the beadle off of her, anger contorting his beautiful features. "How dare you touch her?"he would yell, throwing the shorter man against the wall and pinning him with a choke hold.

The beadle would scramble, fighting for breath as his face turned a deep purple.

"Nellie Lovett is not your whore, you perverted bastard. She is the love of my life. And for hurting her, I will make you pay," Sweeney would say as he took out the razor he kept clipped to his belt. "This perverted son of a bitch isn't fit to go in one of your pies, my love."

And Sweeney would draw back his arm, his grip on the beadle's neck slackening as the beadle's face twisted in horror. The blade would cut down in a wide arc, painting the cheery wallpaper a deep crimson.

"I'm so sorry I didn't say anything sooner, Nellie. And I'm sorry this bastard violated you. I want to spend the rest of my life making it up to you. Please, Nellie? Let me take you to the sea. We'll have a house. Maybe children? Please, Nellie?"Sweeney would ask, taking her pale hands in his bloodied ones.

"Oh, Mr. Todd! I would love that!" Mrs. Lovett would answer. She'd wrap her arms around him and pull him into a fiery kiss as the lifeless body of Beadle Bamford slid to the floor with a thud.

Mrs. Lovett couldn't suppress the wicked grin this picture provoked even as the beadle panted throughout his finish.

Noticing her grin, Beadle Bamford smiled as well. "It was good for you, too, then? Well, I'm glad you're over that crying thing. 'Bout time,"he huffed, pulling out of her. He stood and pulled his pants back on. "I'll see you tonight, the usual time." He strode briskly from the shop, the bell's tinkling the last sign of him.

Mrs. Lovett remained seated on the armchair, vaguely aware that there would no doubt be a line waiting for opening and she wasn't even clothed. But she couldn't shake that last image..._Mr. Todd's lips on mine; the beadle slumped to the floor, his life's blood pouring out.._


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Sorry guys, this chapter is kinda short. Originally, it was supposed to be at the end of chapter two, but when I typed up two, I found I liked it better without the following scene. But the scene was still rather necessary. And so… "Here we are! Hot out of the oven." (Or off the press? Whatever. I'm sure you all fully got the reference regardless of how well it fit.)

* * *

"Mrs. Lovett? I want an explanation for earlier and I'm not leaving until-Oh!" Sweeney spun around, moving faster than Mrs. Lovett thought possible, as a blush crept across his pale face.

"Mr. Todd!" Mrs. Lovett screeched, scrambling to find something-anything-to cover any part of herself with, a blush of her own mirroring Sweeney's. She quickly realized just how far the beadle-_Bloody bastard!_- had thrown her clothing and was forced to settle for drawing her knees up to her chin.

Sweeney shielded his eyes, fighting the urge to steal a second glance at Mrs. Lovett's form- _The woman has just been violated! Now is hardly the time, pull yourself together!_-Instead, Sweeney threw his jacket and the skirt at his feet in the general direction of the armchair. "Ahem-I'll just… I'll- I'll be in the main shop."

Mrs. Lovett couldn't suppress a giggle and she doubted she had ever seen him this flustered. Deciding that she hadn't, she pulled her skirt over her hips and his jacket over her head. _It reeks of him,_ Mrs. Lovett thought happily with a sigh.

"Wot ya need, love?" Mrs. Lovett asked Sweeney as she padded into the shop behind him.

Sweeney, it seemed, had gotten over his embarrassment. "Earlier, Mrs. Lovett. Your…Outburst? Well, you never answered my question: Who's been saying 'same time?' And what happened to your neck? … Was it the beadle, Mrs. Lovett?"

Despite her dreams of being rescued, Mrs. Lovett couldn't say it aloud. She couldn't tell Sweeney what the beadle had done to her, what he had made her do-_his hands in her hair as he forced her to her knees_. She couldn't admit how weak and helpless he had made her feel-_how worthless and pitiful and defenseless_. She couldn't say that it was her determination to capture Sweeney's attention was what had started this whole traumatic series of events, couldn't say that the beadle had noticed her when he had not.

Sweeney watched as the embarrassed flush drained from Mrs. Lovett's features leaving them a stark white.

"I was… An' 'e… I…"

"Did the beadle do to you what Judge Turpin did to my Lucy?" Sweeney asked tentatively, expecting a reprise of the tears he had seen earlier.

Mrs. Lovett blinked, tears burning at her eyes. _No,_ she wanted to scream. _Because you weren't brooding away upstairs the one and only night that Lucy was raped. You weren't so close and yet so far away, her only hope for rescue, for her._

But, as she opened her mouth to rage at him, all that came out was a strangled sob and she quickly found herself wrapped in Sweeney's strong embrace as she cried.

"It's okay," Sweeney cooed, petting her hair gently. "It's gonna be okay, Nellie. I'm gonna make it okay again."

Mrs. Lovett knew that, even as he hugged her close to him and breathed promises in her ear, he wasn't holding her. This wasn't her dark and beautiful barber holding the baker that loved him so completely. This was Benjamin Barker comforting his perfect Lucy. She couldn't help but sob harder, her heart shattering as Sweeney hurt her more deeply than the beadle ever could have.

"When is he coming back?" Sweeney asked, sitting her up when her crying had all but ceased. "I want to be ready."

"Tonight," Mrs. Lovett answered, sniffling and wiping her eyes. "Jus' after I close."

Sweeney nodded, "I want you to bring him to the parlor. Do you think you'll be able to do that?"

Mrs. Lovett nodded as Sweeney had. "But why the parlor?"

"I don't want him to see me coming," Sweeney replied, a dark glint in his eyes. "And… I want it to hurt."

Mrs. Lovett forced herself to ignore the pain in her heart and think again of the rescue she fantasized about.

Sweeney may never say those things to her, may never really notice _her_ or the love she felt for him, but she could still see the beadle sink to the floor as her cheery wallpaper was painted a deep red.

Tonight.


	4. Chapter 4

"Please, Mr. Todd," Mrs. Lovett pleaded as the last of her customers rose to leave. "Please don't make me answer the door. I don't want to see 'im. Can't you answer the door an' jus'-" She made a slicing motion across her throat.

Sweeney shook his head. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Lovett. I really am. If you don't act like business as usual, though, we can't get him. He can't suspect a thing and he undoubtedly would if I answered the door."

Mrs. Lovett's bottom lip quivered as she fought back tears. "I can't, Mr. T!" A stubborn tear slid down her cheeks, opening the floodgates.

"Shush, my pet," Sweeney soothed, pulling her to him. "It's okay, Nellie. Just get him to the parlor, that's it. I'll take care of the rest. I promise he will pay for everything he's done to you."

Mrs. Lovett shook her head, crying quietly into his shoulder.

"Please, Nellie? Just get him to the parlor. For me, my pet?" Sweeney whispered into her dark hair as he gently rubbed her back.

Reluctantly, she nodded. Sniffling, she attempted to rub the evidence of tears from her face. "Alrigh', Mr. T. For you."

Mrs. Lovett stood, straightening her skirts as she breathed deeply. _Just once more._

His hand lingering on her shoulder, Sweeney stood as well. "Just to the parlor, pet." He backed away to hide among the shadows.

She flipped the sign on her shop door to close before attempting to tidy with trembling hands.

"Just to the parlor," Mrs. Lovett whispered, spotting the beadle turn onto Fleet Street.

"Beadle Bamford!" she forced a smile as she opened the door for him.

"Waiting for me, Mrs. Lovett? I guess a man like meself makes quite an impression," the beadle smiled. "I should've guessed when you was smiling earlier. Well, since you're so eager, how 'bout right here, in the booth?"

Mrs. Lovett's heart hammered in her chest. "'Ow's 'bout we go into the parlor? Much comfier there, sir."

"But that's so far away," Beadle Bamford complained, gripping Mrs. Lovett's wrist and pulling her close. "And we're right here."

"But the parlor's so much cozier," Mrs. Lovett struggled against him, praying her barber would rescue her for real this time.

Beadle Bamford pushed her roughly against the kitchen island, making her cry out. He leaned into her, muffling her cry with his mouth. "That's right, nice and cozy-like," he murmured into her neck.

She tilted her head back, disgusted, to get away from the beadle's sloppy kisses.

The beadle, however, mistook this as a move of passion and continued. He bit and licked his way to her collarbone before sucking at it as he reached to untie her dress.

"Please, Beadle Bamford, sir? To the parlor? What if somebody sees?" Mrs. Lovett pleaded desperately. _To the parlor and my Sweeney and it'll all be over._

"Like who?" the beadle asked, sliding the dress off her shoulders and letting it fall to the floor in a heap. His bites trailed lower as he fumbled with her corset.

"A customer? A late customer? Me tenet, Mrs. Todd? I forgot to give 'im 'is dinner. He might come down for it," Mrs. Lovett made up, fighting the urge to cry. _This wasn't supposed to happen anymore. Sweeney said he'd make it all better!_

"Let 'em watch," Beadle Bamford finished with the laces on her corset and threw it to the floor with her dress.

Mrs. Lovett shivered as the air hit her. "The parlor, sir, is much warmer."

"I don't mind it," the beadle murmured into her breasts, dragging his teeth over one of her erect nipples as he fondled the other awkwardly. He guided her hands to his trousers, forcing her to cup his erection. "How's about we get right to it?"

"Please, sir? Can't we go into the parlor? Or proper-like in me bedroom?" Mrs. Lovett suggested loudly, a pleading note in her voice.

"I said no!" the beadle answered harshly, losing his patience as he pushed her bloomers down past her knees. He extracted himself before plowing into her roughly with a grunt, causing her to gasp in pain.

"Mr. Todd!" Mrs. Lovett cried in her mind as the beadle gripped the counter on either side of her and thrusted deeper.

No, not in her mind. Out loud.

The beadle paused to look at her before shrugging, "Whatever gets you off, lady." He continued, picking up his pace as he panted.

Sweeney appeared in the doorway just in time to see the beadle shudder his release into a sobbing Mrs. Lovett. With a growl, Sweeney unfolded one of his "friends" and marched behind the other man before violently stabbing his "friend" deep into the beadle's back.

The beadle screamed as the razor bit into his flesh. His outcry was cutoff as Sweeney dragged a second "friend" across the man's thick neck.

Blood poured heavily from the cut, painting Mrs. Lovett's milky white chest the bright crimson she had envisioned on the parlor's "cheery wallpaper" as the beadle clutched desperately at his wounded neck.

Sliding out of her and into a pile on the floor, the beadle gurgled his last breath.

Sweeney, however, was far from finished with him. He continued to stab every inch of the beadle he could reach.

Finally, he stood up and found Mrs. Lovett leaning heavily on the counter, sobbing and drenched in the beadle's blood, neck to knees.

"Nellie," he breathed, pulling her to him. "Nellie, I'm so sorry I didn't come sooner. I didn't realize he was resisting going to the parlor. I'm so sorry." He kissed her temple before gathering her in his arms as she continued to cry into his shoulder.

Sweeney carried Mrs. Lovett into the washroom where he placed her into the tub. Letting it fill, he unlaced her boots and gently slid them from her feet.

"I'm so sorry, Nellie," he kept repeating as he washed the blood from her body. Sobs racked her body and she shivered violently.

"I should never have made you answer the door, never made you see him again," he told her, wrapping her in a towel before he picked her up again.

He laid her down gently in her bed, pulling the covers around her.

Mrs. Lovett clutched the front of his shirt desperately as she cried into him, trying to form words. Wordlessly, he climbed into the bed next to her and pulled her close.

Scooting closer, Mrs. Lovett wrapped her arms wound his chest, muffling her cries in his bloodied shirt, "I-I- An' 'e-"

"Shh, I'm here, Nellie," he whispered into her damp hair. "I'm right here, pet, and I promise I won't let anyone hurt you again."

Mrs. Lovett cried herself to sleep with Sweeney's strong arms encircling her, hardly daring to believe that her torment at the beadle's hands was over.

Sweeney waited an hour before daring to move, not wanting to wake the finally sleeping Mrs. Lovett.

Sometime before that hour was up, Sweeney had noticed that his hands seem to have ended up in some less-than-proper places: One pulling Mrs. Lovett closer by her arse, the other resting lightly on one of her breasts.

How he managed to extract himself from her arms without waking her, he didn't understand, but he thought it best not to question this stroke of luck. Instead, he padded quietly from her room and to the main shop.

Angrily, he kicked the body of the beadle down the stairs and into the bake-house.

Picking up the baker's cleaver, he violently ripped at the broken form of the beadle until it was no longer recognizable. "She shouldn't have to see his face ever again," he justified. Thinking again, he threw the whole of the beadle's body into the oven, watching the flames lick at the unrecognizable meat with a satisfied smirk.

Sweeney made his way back up the stairs to clean up the mess he'd left behind. He soon realized, though, that he didn't know what to do with Mrs. Lovett's stained dress.

Would she still want it?

He decided he's have to ask her when she woke up. He cleaned the evidence from the main shop before walking up to his rooms for a clean shirt.

He heard Mrs. Lovett's muffled cries from below and hurried back to her. "What is it? What's wrong?" Sweeney asked, throwing her bedroom door open.

His landlady was pitching around in her sleep, the covers thrown to the floor, as she cried and whimpered.

Sweeney clutched Mrs. Lovett to his bare chest, speaking in a voice just above her shouts, "Shh, Nellie. Easy, now. Hush, love. Hush." He repeated what she had told him so many times.

Her whimpers died down as Sweeney held her close, running his fingers through her dark hair.

Mrs. Lovett nuzzled into Sweeney's chest, mumbling in her sleep.

"What, pet?" Sweeney asked. He swore he had heard her say his name.

"-Love you, Sweeney-" the rest of her words lost in his skin as she turned her face into his alabaster chest.

Sweeney froze, his fingers entwined in her hair. "What, pet?" he repeated. Maybe he had misunderstood. He knew she had a fondness for him, she'd said as much. But love?

Love was what Benjamin Barker had felt for Lucy. Love was not an emotion to be associated with Sweeney Todd.

It was a Benjamin emotion.

But here was his landlady, sleeping soundly once more. In his arms. His touch bringing her comfort-another word not to be associated with Sweeney Todd.

**I must've misheard**, he decided. **No one can love Mister Sweeney Todd, a blood-thirsty, revenge-driven monster. The Demon Barber of Fleet Street.**

"I said I love ya, Mister Todd," Mrs. Lovett said again, her breath hot on his neck.

Sweeney looked down at the woman in his arms.

She was awake.


	5. Chapter 5

"You… What?" Sweeney couldn't help but ask.

He knew he hadn't misheard, knew he couldn't mistake the emotion shining in his landlady's eyes.

The Benjamin emotion.

No, it was pure disbelief that made Sweeney ask again.

Mrs. Lovett was still looking up at him, her arm strewn across his hard chest. "I-I said I love ya, Mister T," she repeated, a flush creeping up her bare chest.

Wide-eyed, he shook his head, "You can't possibly." He sat up, pulling out of her grasp. "I'm… I'm a monster."

"No," Mrs. Lovett began, tears welling in her eyes. "No, you killed the monster wot 'armed me. Ya ain't a monster, Mister T."

"Nellie," he took her hands in his own, "I kill people everyday. I lure them into my barber's chair and slit. Their. Throats."

"An' I bake 'em into pies. If ya think tellin' me all this is gonna make me stop lovin' ya, yer wrong. Oh, Mister T," she hugged herself against his chest as fresh tears swam down her cheeks, "I've loved ya fer so long. Before ya got sent away an' all them years you was gone an' when ya came back.

"I loved ya when you was Mister Barker and married to yer Lucy and I was married ter me Albert. I loved ya when bloody Turpin sent ya away. I loved ya when ya came back, a changed man. I loved ya when ya killed the Italian an' even when ya ignored me."

"Nellie," he breathed, combing his fingers through her short black hair.

"No, Mister T. Ya don't understand! When the beadle… When 'e… I thought of you to get me through it, to keep me strong, I did. I didn't want to end up like Lucy cause where would you go, Mister T? You'd be out on the street, ya would.

"I would listen every night when 'e… I would listen to yer pacing upstairs an' I would dream of you rescuin' me. An' ya did rescue me, Mister Todd, ya did." She dissolved back into tears.

Sweeney raised his hand to rub her back awkwardly, "It's okay, Nellie. It's-"

"No, it's not!" she sobbed, beating her balled fist against his pale chest. "It's not okay! I love ya. I love ya so much and ya don't care 'bout me at all, ya don't! Ya don't never notice me, never! The bloody beadle noticed me when I dressed up for ya and you di'n't! All I want is fer ya ta care, fer ya ta notice me, an' ya don't! An' I love ya anyway! Stupid bloody man!"

He stared at her, wide-eyed, as she sobbed against his chest. "I- I'm sorry, Nellie. I never meant to-"

"Oh, ya are not. All you bloody care abou' is yer Lucy. The only reason wot the beadle did ta me upset ya so much is cause ya still haven't gotten the bloody ol' judge fer wha' 'e did ta yer Lucy. That's the only reason ya comforted me, I know it. I ain't no fool. I ain't naïve. I may be a dreamer, but I still knows tha's why ya wanted ta help me.

"Oh, Mister T, I love ya so much!" Her body wracked with her silent sobs as she gasped for breath before fresh tears sprang from her brown eyes.

Sweeney blinked as he attempted to rub her back in smoothing circles. He was at a complete loss for words. "I…" He opened and closed his mouth as he searched futilely for words that wouldn't come.

He did care for her, but it wasn't love. Not the kind she'd just professed for him, anyway. And Lucy hadn't been the only reason he'd wanted to help her, but she was a big part of it. But he had also killed the beadle out of rage. He'd been so angry when he'd walked in to see him violating Mrs. Lovett that way.

"That's not true," he argued. "I didn't just help because of Lucy. I helped because I care about you and it made me angry to see the beadle hurting you that way."

Mrs. Lovett cried harder against him, "Don't lie ta me, Mister Todd. I can't take it. Not now, anyway. Ya don't know 'ow much tha'd mean ta me if ya really meant it, but ya don't. Please don't get me 'opes up."

Sweeney could practically feel how much she needed him, how much she loved him. He could feel her need not to be rejected by him. Again. Not quite sure as to why, he lifted her tear-stained face from its cover against his skin and lowered his lips to hers, kissing her gently.

Fresh tears sprang to her eyes as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her lips hard against his.

Sweeney nearly cried himself as she deepened the kiss, her tongue pressing into his mouth. He could feel her need even more and it shocked him. He hadn't felt these warm Benjamin emotions in so long that even feeling them second hand through Mrs. Lovett was startling to him. Her fingers entangled in his hair as her lips moved hungrily over his and, still, she pulled him harder against her mouth.

Finally, she broke the kiss, burying her face in his neck as fresh tears spilled.

He was amazed. **How can any one person have that much water **inside** them? **he wondered.

"I'm sorry, Mister T," she sobbed, her arms around his neck again as she buried her face deeper in his skin. "I shouldn' 'ave done tha'. I'm so sorry, Mister T. I jus'- I love ya so much!"

**Even Lucy didn't cry this much when she was pregnant!**

"Nellie?" Sweeney asked as her crying subsided into low breathing. "Mrs. Lovett?" He pulled slightly out of her grasp and she crumpled against him. **Bloody woman. **"Mrs. Lovett?"

She had cried herself to sleep again.


	6. Chapter 6

Her eyelids fluttered and she groaned sleepily, stretching. She sat up in shock when her limbs connected with the hard body of her unknown bed-mate.

"The bloody-" she looked about in shock, her eyes growing wider when she saw Sweeney sleeping soundly beside her. "Mist-" she stopped, looking down at her own body and realizing she was naked. She fell out of the bed with a strangled gasp.

She looked frantically about her for a sign of her nightgown as she struggled to remember the evening's earlier events. Pulling the nightdress over her head, she stood up and crept out of her bedroom to curl up on her sofa.

"Now, what in the bloody 'ell is Mister T doin' in me bed when I'm naked?" Mrs. Lovett wondered aloud, her brow knotting in confusion. "'E wasn't naked, so we didn't 'ave sex… Did we? The bloody 'ell 'appened!?"

She heaved a sigh, tucking her feet below her. "Alrigh', Nellie. We can figure this ou', we can. We just… We just gotta think… Bloody 'ell, we're talkin'-Damn it! I'm talkin' to meself again… And I can't wind up like Luc-"

Her eyes went wide, her memory being flooded with trickles of the events from the night before.

She rushed to the main room of the shop looking around, "Tha' means 'e's gone…. Where's the bloody git's fat arse? …. It 'as to be 'ere. Maybe Mister Todd-?" She turned on her heel, scurrying back to her bedroom and into her bed.

Her feet tucked below her again, she gently nudged the barber. "Mister T? ….. Mister Todd? Mi- Mister Todd?" She shook him, leaning very close.

He opened his eyes, yawning, "Yes, Nellie?"

"… 'Chu call me?"

"… Nellie? That's your name, isn't it? Or did you prefer Eleanor?" he sat up, clutching her hand gently and holding it on his chest in both of his.

"No, I 'fer Nellie…. But you don't never call me tha'. Ya call me Mrs. Lovett. Ya always 'ave," she told him as if he didn't know what he called her.

"Well, I can call you Mrs. Lovett if you feel that a first name is inappropriate for a landlady and her tenet, but-"

"No! Ya can call me Nellie! That's jus' fine, love," she grinned, settling back against the pillows and quite forgetting the reason she'd woken him.

He nodded, "Lovely. I'll call you Nellie, then. Anyway, what did you need, Nellie?"

"Wh-? Oh! Um… Right! Yes! Mister T, what 'appened to the beadle? 'Chu kill 'im? I- I don't qui' 'member, but I though' ya did. But I didn't see 'is body in the parlor or the main shop. So, I don-"

He placed a solitary finger against her plump lips, "Calm down, Nellie. I took care of it. Now then, how are you?"

"'Chu mean ya took care of it? Ya did kill 'im then? I though' ya did, but I can't find 'is body an-"

"Nellie! Please calm down, pet. It's taken care of. He's dead. I took his body down to the bakehouse-"

"The bakehouse!" she gasped, pushing herself from the bed and rushing from the room.

She scampered through the parlor before running down the stairs and heaving the door open. She stood in the bakehouse, the ground cold against her bare feet as she stared around the cold basement.

She jumped, a screech escaping her plump lips when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Shhh, pet," Sweeney soothed before pulling her against his chest.

"Where is 'e? Did 'e escape? Mister Todd! 'E'll tell the judge! We're ruined! We'll both be in jail! We're ruined!" She was rambling, her unshed tears evident in her voice. "An' wot if 'e comes back! Mister T, I can't bear it again! I-I can't! 'Is greasy fingers in me hair an'- I can't, Mister T! I won't!"

She pulled out of his grasp to run back up the stairs before rushing to the barber's quarters. She was sitting on the wooden floor and pulling one of his razors open when he walked into his room.

"What are y-"

She pressed the blade to her wrist, tears falling down her cheeks now, before he pulled the razor from her and tossed it to a corner.

"What are you _doing_?!" he demanded, pulling her into a standing position.

Her eyes were wide with fright and she was trembling as she looked up at him. "Please, Mister T… I _can't_."

"And you won't, pet. Don't worry about the beadle, Nellie. He's _dead._ I killed him. I dragged his body to the bakehouse and threw him into the oven. He's gone. He won't be coming back and he won't be telling the judge. He'll never hurt you again. I made sure of it. It's okay, Nellie, my pet," he hugged her close again, running his fingers through her dark locks. "It's okay."

She nodded, her breathing erratic with her silent sobs. "Ye-Yes, Mis-Mister To-Odd." She hiccoughed, her own arms snaking around his torso as she hugged herself closer.

"Nellie, you're gonna be okay. You're strong, remember? You waited for me, you knew I'd come back. You are _strong enough_ to get _through this_," he told her, his conviction plain in his voice.

She made a noise of disagreement in the back of her throat, burying her face against his chest.

"Yes you are. And I will be right here with you to help you get back to your old self." He scooped her up bridal style and carried her back down the stairs and to her bedroom. He turned to leave after laying her gently on her bed.

"N-No! Mister T! Please don't leave me. Please? I-I feel safe with you. Please, Mister Todd?" she reached out for him, her fists opening and closing around empty air.

He smiled for her as he nodded and sat beside her on the bed. She quickly scooted up next to him, tucking her feet beneath herself as she leaned against his chest.

"Tell me 'ow ya killed 'im?" she asked, sounding like a small child asking for a bedtime story.

"Of course, Nellie," he nodded, wrapping an arm around her. "I walked in on him defiling you-"

He recounted the events of the beadle's demise and he heard her make a small noise of happiness when he told her how the man had clutched at his thick, bleeding throat. And she was pleasantly asleep before he finished telling her how he'd watched even the man's bone's turn to ashes.


End file.
